Chapter Text
Miguel awoke to pain. His fingers throbbed, his teeth ached, and sharper pain radiated from all his limbs. He groaned, opening his eyes to the familiar ceiling of his bedroom, the room almost completely dark with the shades drawn to prevent a headache.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Lyla said somewhere close by. “On a scale of one to ‘where am I’, how are you feeling?”
“Ten,” Miguel rasped, the act of speaking revealing how dry his mouth was. “I at least know where I am.”
Lyla’s muted glow gleamed in the corner of his eye. “How about a painkiller?”
“And water,” he mumbled, turning slightly on his side to look at himself. At some point, his suit had been removed, leaving him in the more casual clothing beneath. Bandages were applied to his injuries, their neatness revealing Jessica as the likely applicant.
“You’re gonna have to shower to get the red off your face.”
Miguel ran his fingers over his mouth, and they came away slightly stained. Most of the memories blurred in fearful rage, but the ache in his teeth intensified at the remembrance of tearing into biomass. “So it wasn’t a nightmare?”
“No. It was real.”
He sat up slowly, his eyes inevitably wandering to the photo that always remained on his bedside table. His wife and daughter’s faces grinned at him from the frame alongside himself, who looked almost unrecognizable for the smile he wore. The pain of their absence throbbed dully in his heart, but he was deeply relieved that such loss had not come again.
“The kid?” he asked. “Is she…?”
“She went home,” Lyla said. “Followup reports indicate she’s fine.”
Miguel breathed out in a heavy release.
“Painkiller and water’s in the kitchen.”
Miguel forced himself up, staggering to his feet and ignoring the twinges of pain with each movement as he limped out of his bedroom. The rest of his apartment was similarly dark, likely thanks to Lyla’s forethought, the only light provided by her hovering form trailing behind him. A glass of water and the painkiller pill waited on the kitchen counter, spat out of one of many hidden apparatuses. He took them both, downing the pill and the entire glass in one breath.
“How long have I slept?” he asked, heading to the sink for a refill.
“About twelve hours.” Lyla alighted upon the counter. “Nothing crazy.”
“Twelve?” Miguel whirled, the glass creaking ominously in his hand with a sudden increase in pressure. “Have you short-circuited? Why did you let me sleep that long?”
Lyla raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “You were running on fumes before the fight. The only thing keeping you going was coffee and Mayday Parker. You needed the rest.”
Miguel let out a growling groan, leaning heavily against the counter as a thousand terrible scenarios of his absence piled into his mind.
“Relax,” Lyla said. “The Society can survive you taking a super nap.”
Miguel ran a hand over his eyes. The painkiller was already working, taking the edge off the worst of his aches. “What about Carnage?”
“Found it, kept it contained. Told the others you’re gonna need to finish the job, though.”
A pulse of anger set a growl in his throat. “I will, en mi vida.”
“Slow your roll. You still need to rest a bit. Wouldn’t wanna deprive the kid of her biggest hero, would you?”
Another line of thought spun itself out in Miguel’s head and he dropped his gaze to the sleek countertop. An ache blossomed in his chest, but not the physical kind.
“Need another dose?” Lyla pressed.
“No,” he murmured. “I…I’d be surprised if Parker ever brought the kid around again, after what happened.”
Lyla was silent, so at first Miguel thought she was sharing in his disheartened state, but when he finally looked up he found her grinning at him. “What?” he snapped.
“You look so devastated!” Lyla cried like it was the greatest thing in the world. “I knew you would hate to not have her around!”
“Have you lost your mind?” Miguel snarled, his claws scraping against the counter. “I nearly got her killed! Parker will probably never trust me again!”
Lyla looked at him over the rims of her glasses. “You sure about that?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Go back to your room. Seems like you missed something when you woke up.”
Lyla vanished before Miguel could question her. Snarling some choice words in multiple languages, he stalked back to his room. All frustration faded when he stepped inside and saw what he had overlooked in his pain-muddled awakening. There amidst his bedding sat the little spider toy, waiting for his return, and then he remembered the softness against his hand before losing consciousness.
“Why is this here?” he asked, approaching the toy.
Lyla appeared next to it, leaning against the soft round body. “Mayday wanted you to keep it. After you passed out, Peter said they’d come back for it. I assume that means the kid too.”
Miguel picked up the toy gingerly. It was a little dirty from its stay in the grass, and perhaps from use in general. He considered washing it.
“Peter wasn’t angry at you, at all,” Lyla said, slightly more serious. “He was grateful that you kept her safe. Don’t tell yourself otherwise.”
“Thanks,” he said, swallowing back the tightness that threatened to accumulate in his throat.
Lyla could not convince him to go back to sleep, but he rested at her behest after checking on the state of the Society and assuring himself no catastrophes had occurred in his absence. He showered, removing the last of Carnage’s stains from his mouth and the general grimy feeling left behind by the oozing biomass. When he was dressed in fresh clothes, he shifted from his bed to the couch, and eventually made the mistake of checking his messages, greeted by an avalanche of concerned Spiders’ that had heard of the fight. Knowing there was no way he could reply to them all, he had Lyla do it instead, sinking further into the couch. He had almost forgotten how to just…rest.
He may have dozed off, he wasn’t sure, but the next thing he knew Jessica was walking into his living room. She looked him over with a critical eye, checking on his wounds, though they were almost fully healed.
“Keep resting,” she said when he tried to insist that she would be taking on too much without him around. “You deserve a break. I’ll be back later.”
Miguel tried to argue, but she shut him down with an efficiency that was almost frightening. He put on a mask of exasperation, but somewhere inside he was glad that he didn’t have to throw himself back into the chaos of his work just yet.
As he moved around the apartment, the little spider toy came with him. It was a thoughtless action until Lyla teased him, but he couldn’t leave it alone. It had been entrusted to him, and he never wanted to betray the guileless faith of Mayday Parker in his ability to keep her and her toy safe. Eventually he did put it through the wash, and Lyla cackled as he paid extra attention to keeping the legs from getting tangled. He ignored her, unearthing the old memories of washing his daughter’s favorite toys and putting them to practice again. He came out with a clean, soft spider that smelled like floral fabric softeners, free of any indication that it had ever been through an attack by a symbiote.
He lounged around for a while after that, until he heard the front door hiss open. Thinking only Jessica would walk in that brazenly, he called, “Was I right? Did something explode?”
“The only thing that’s about to explode is Mayday out of my arms—whoa!”
Miguel turned at the unexpected sound of Peter’s voice, but further action was interrupted as a little juggernaut came careening into the darkened living room, shouting, “Meeeeeaaaaaah!”
Mayday blindly charged forward in the direction of Miguel’s voice. She was so happy to see him again, and the hurt from him was so much less! She came with centimeters of smashing into the coffee table, but was rescued by a pair of hands lifting her free of the ground.
“Calm down,” Miguel said, trying to get a good hold on the wriggling mass of Mayday. “Lyla, bring up the lights, but not much.”
Peter entered the living room at a more sedate pace, his steps becoming more sure as the lights came on dimly. “I would have called ahead, but Mayday insisted.”
“The day you call ahead is the day the world ends,” Miguel grumbled, though his annoyance was largely performative with the kid in his arms. She looked much cleaner now, and back to her usual incorrigible self. Like he had observed the day before, she was uninjured save for one little spot on her knee, which was now covered with a sparkly bandaid. But for his own peace of mind, he asked, “Is she alright?”
“Took her to the doctor at home just to be sure. She’s completely fine, thanks to you.”
Miguel briefly studied Peter’s face, searching for any sign of unhappiness or distrust, but found nothing save for gratitude. “It never should have happened in the first place.”
Peter waved the words away. “I can’t put that on you. Symbiotes are tricky business. They surpass the old Spidey-Sense, and this version of Carnage seemed especially…morbid.”
“Yeah,” Miguel agreed grimly.
More conversation was cut off as Mayday wiggled her way up to Miguel’s face, patting his cheeks experimentally, like she was checking them for injury. Seemingly pleased to find none, she settled a little, until she noticed the freshly washed toy waiting for her on the couch. She nearly went head over heels trying to get to it, but Miguel was becoming steadily more efficient at wrangling her wild impulses. He caught her by the legs, and she giggled as she briefly swung upside down while he retrieved the toy with his free hand.
“I’m not sure why she wanted to leave that with you,” Peter said, scratching the back of his head. “She loves that thing. Hardly goes anywhere without it. I guess she thought you needed it more.”
Miguel didn’t reply, but he internally concluded that Peter was right. The toy had served as a reassurance that perhaps he didn’t screw up nearly as bad as he thought he did. Mayday settled in his arms again, and immediately drooled on her treasured possession.
“Thank you, from both MJ and I. I don’t think I can possibly say that enough.”
“It’s just part of being Spider-Man—“
Peter pointed a finger at him. “Oh, no. I don’t want to hear any of that. You’ve gone above and beyond for May. Honestly, I only intended to have you babysit the first time it happened and find someone else, but I…I saw how happy you were.”
Miguel glanced at him sharply, but did not protest the observation.
“You’ve done a good job looking after her, and this just blows everything else out of the water. As her dad, I don’t think I could’ve asked for anything better.”
Miguel adjusted Mayday in his arms, swallowing hard. “I thought I messed up, badly.”
“You can’t do everything perfectly, man. Believe me, I know more than anything. But Jessica sent me some reports on Carnage’s aftermath.” Something darker flashed briefly in Peter’s eyes. “That’s what I wish I could do. The symbiotes like to find weaknesses.”
“They succeeded.”
“More like tried and failed. If Carnage was trying to use her against you, it clearly backfired.” Peter sighed. “Look, you don’t have to worry about not being able to see Mayday.”
Miguel scowled. “I wasn’t worried about that.”
“Uh huh. Well, Mayday sure was, isn’t that right, honey?”
Mayday set up a new round of wiggling, too pleased to sit still. No monsters anymore, just her favorite people!
Miguel’s scowl vanished in an instant, internally deeply relieved that he had not jeopardized Mayday’s presence around him, though he certainly wouldn’t be taking her out without thorough scans beforehand. “Easy, mija.”
Peter watched him calm her with a smile before asking, “So are you going to take care of Carnage?”
“Si. As soon as I can.”
“Think you’d need some backup?”
“No. It’s my Carnage, so it has to be me that finishes the job, or else the stability of the multiverse—“
“—can be severely unbalanced, yeah, I got it.” Peter let the words hang for a moment. “It would make me feel better to see it, at least.”
Miguel snorted, but he could not fault him. “Okay, fine. But you have to stay out of it, and you can’t bring arañita, understand?”
Peter grinned. “Deal.”
Miguel sank down onto the couch. Now that he had seen Mayday whole and unharmed, the force that had kept him up and awake had slowly begun to filter away. Fortunately, Mayday didn’t seem too interested in wandering, restricting her crawling to him and the couch.
Peter could see the tiredness beginning to take over Miguel, and he hoped that would encourage Mayday to take a nap of her own. Since waking up that morning, she had been going full blast, and neither him nor MJ could get her to calm down. However, he could see her starting to slow as she climbed around Miguel. It was perfect.
“Think you could keep an eye on her while I run down to the cafeteria?” he asked. “I’m starved.”
Miguel arched an eyebrow. “You trust me with that?”
“Of course. Like I said, the way you tore up Carnage made me jealous.”
“Guess I can’t stop you,” Miguel said, leaning back to shorten Mayday’s distance from his shoulder to the couch.
“Great! I’ll try to be quick.”
Miguel didn’t believe that, but the next thing he knew, he was alone with the kid again. Even with the promise that Peter and Mayday would be back, he hadn’t expected to be looking after her again for quite some time, if ever again. That notion had turned on its head so fast it gave him mental whiplash, and it left him a little stunned. His first inclination was that Peter truly was irresponsible, but then he considered it from the other side. If it had been Peter and his daughter, he would be more than happy to see Carnage being ripped to shreds.
Mayday cooed behind him, and he shifted, stretching himself along the length of the couch. She regarded him from atop the back cushions curiously, before tossing her spider down. He caught it in one hand, turning it carefully. “Still trust me with this?”
Mayday followed her toy, though she descended the cushions much more carefully, which spared Miguel the unfortunate circumstance of a potentially painful impact. She slid down, tumbling onto his torso awkwardly before taking the toy back when he offered it.
“You’re a good kid,” he murmured. “Dulce.”
Mayday scooted closer to his face, alleviating any suspicion that she might have residual fear of him after he burned through his serum. What even frightened him sometimes seemed to have no effect on her, but his Spider side would never hurt her. That much he knew.
Sitting almost nose to nose, they stared at each other for a few moments. Miguel did not know what she was thinking, but the innocent adoration in her eyes never failed to make him feel wholly undeserving and fill him with the need to do better. The incident with Carnage seemed far away, fading like a bad dream beneath the light of dawn.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He carded his fingers through the wily mass of curls. “If you could forgive me, I would ask.”
Mayday leaned into his touch, a contented smile blooming on her face. He continued stroking her hair, settling into a slow rhythm, and it worked like a sedative. Mayday’s eyelids began to droop, staying closed for longer intervals each time, and eventually her balance began to fade. She tilted forward, and Miguel carefully guided her to rest against his shoulder, where she curled comfortably with her toy.
If that was her forgiveness, it was more than enough.
“Gracias,” Miguel whispered, feeling sleep beginning to pull at him as well. He hadn’t failed, not this time, and it finally seemed to him that he was not doomed to always suffer loss.
Peter took longer than he needed to at the cafeteria, knowing full well what he would find when he returned to Miguel’s apartment. He was proven right when Lyla told him to be quiet upon reentering, finding the pair slumbering together as though the past day had never happened. Miguel needed the rest, needed Mayday’s gentle presence, and Peter was more than happy to let them sleep.
The amount of venom that had spilled into Carnage’s form never truly wore off. With no human circulatory system to filter out the agent, it remained and festered, making every movement a concentrated effort if not downright impossible.
It was trapped, for now. A multitude of Spiders had appeared and chased it into the gutted basement of a building, blocking every way out with energy shields that it could not penetrate no matter how hard it ripped and bit. It needed a new host, a living one, regardless of the battle of wills that would take place. It needed to be rid of the venom, and once it was it would tear the Spider-Man to shreds.
So when it gave up trying to fight its way out, it waited, searching for any opportunity. Hours passed, then a day. There were Spiders outside, rotating, keeping watch, blurring together in sound and smell as the vigil continued.
Then there at last came a voice.
“So, here’s the thing.”
Carnage stood, a gurgling hiss rolling from its tongue as the words echoed across the dark expanse of the basement. It was him, the Spider who belonged.
“The one thing that typically separates Spider-Man from the villains is that he doesn’t kill.” The voice continued calmly, heedless of Carnage’s stirring. “That changes from universe to universe, but Spider-Man typically has some sort of moral compass.”
Carnage pulled on quivering limbs, forcing its body to turn and as it searched. It saw nothing.
“I am one of the Spiders who doesn’t like to kill. There are people behind the villains, people who have suffered. You probably know that, since you came from Venom.”
The layered maw opened in a frustrated growl. The voice sounded like it was coming from everywhere.
“But…”
A small clang echoed off the cold sheetrock walls. Carnage dove towards the sound, crashing into a pile of steel and stone, but came up empty clawed.
“You will not be so lucky.”
The voice came from behind now, closer. But all it could see was the expanse of the basement.
“There is no life in you. There is no Eddie Brock or Cletus Kassady to take into account. There is only a dead man, who likely did not deserve what you did to him. So I have no life to spare.”
It drew even closer.
“Show yourself, Spider-Man!” Carnage bellowed.
“Even if you did have a life to spare, I would be very, very difficult to convince. You can come after me all day long, but not the children. Not the ones that can’t fight back.”
Carnage caught a whiff of something that turned all anger into terror. A cloying, sharp scent.
Fire.
It ran, turning its back on the voice, hurtling towards the energy barriers. It smashed against them, but the venom in its system left it weakened.
“And so I will be rid of you, for good.”
Carnage stopped as the voice came from right behind it. It looked back just in time to behold the flash of fangs and the twin pinpoints of red.
Miguel let the incendiary drop from his hand. “I said you would regret meeting me.”